Aspiring to Be...

As I sat in my car eating my lunch a familiar voice reached out from my car radio and brought me to attention.

The voice was Tony Kornheiser. A hero and a mentor I've never met but have come to know quite well over the years.

He's a columnist, an author, a TV personality, a radio show host... If you live in DC, you can't escape the guy. (not that you would want to). He's sarcastic, he's honest, he's poetic, he's real.

You don't need to know him to know him. He is a voice in this City. Listening to his mid-day radio show is like having lunch with a friend.

One of his topics yesterday was the death of John Lennon. Or rather, writing about the death of John Lennon.

His editor from the Washington Post called him in the middle of the night simply saying, "Can you write a column about this in 30 minutes?"

Back then, newspapers really meant something. Newspapers were something you hold in your hand, not view on a computer screen.

There were no 24 hour news networks. There was no internet.

Now, when a big story hits you have a thousand different news accounts in a matter of minutes. But back then, there was only the newspaper.

So writing this story was a big deal. Tony sat down at his typewriter and hoped he'd be able to find the words... Hoped he'd be able to put something out in 30 minutes.

And miraculously, he did. The words seemed to come, not from his brain, but from his hands. The adrenaline flowed through his veins as his fingers danced across the keys. And there it was... A whole column in 30 minutes. He sent it in and did his best to try and get some sleep.

In the morning he flipped open the paper and checked to see if his column made it. Indeed it did, but he didn't read it. He was afraid it wouldn't be a good as it felt the night before... Who knows if it was good or not, that's really not the point. The story was more about the pressure of the deadline looming over but being able to come through and really contribute something of substance on such an important story.

I thought about it the rest of the day. The passion he had as he told it... That feeling you get when you're in that creative zone. He really nailed it. The words do come from your fingers, they just fall out and land on your keyboard. That's how it feels for me at least. Or should I say, how it felt...

How long has it been? When was the last time I felt that? Too long.
I stare at my computer screen. There it is, my blog. My profile. The words mocking me... "I am an aspiring writer."

What does that mean? Aspiring writer. Anybody can aspire to be anything. My nephew is an aspiring astronaut... doesn't mean anything.

I could have written "I am an aspiring rock star," what's the difference?

I've got two hundred-something pages of a novel that I don't have the courage to send out. Who the hell writes an entire novel and then doesn't send it out? Me, that's who.

So I've decided I should set a more realistic goal... something a little lower, more attainable. How does "aspiring failure" sound? Too harsh? Probably.

Maybe I should go in the opposite direction. I mean if I'm going to really aspire to be something I'll never be, than why not really set the bar high? If you're going to fall, fall hard. Right?

How about this- "I am Joel... Aspiring to be aPulitzer Prize Author, a Nobel Prize Winner, a two-term President of the United States, and father of Selma Hayek's children."